


Crawl Out Through The Fallout

by orchidtheartist



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Blind Character, F/M, Fallout, Female Character of Color, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, There's a lot of sex, Well mostly anyway, because i want to make a story, but not for a looooong time, mostly due to life, okay, suicidal warning, that i didn't really get in fallout 4, you feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidtheartist/pseuds/orchidtheartist
Summary: Nora never was the one for simplicity and perfection. Now that she is 200 years in the future without friends, her husband, and her missing baby, she doesn't have to be.-





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! I'm now sailing this ship and I have a lot planned for it. This is the prologue, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for your messages and comments <3!!!

 

   It started with a bang.

  
The new mother wasn’t exactly sure what time it was when she heard the banging on the door. She had been so exhausted from spending endless hours trying to get her son to sleep that she did not pay attention to the time. She turned her head to notice the baby sleeping soundly in his crib. Shaun. The young woman gingerly ran her hands through the newborn’s fluffy hair. She felt envious his hair was clean; her dark hair matted and oily and gross from two days of nothing but making sure Shaun was clean. Her son should bring her fulfillment, her nosy neighbors would tell her. The rapping of the door continued for what seemed forever, and her husband stood in the doorway of their son’s room, looking at her. “It’s the Vault-tec rep,” her husband looked better than she was, having slept for more than a few hours and dressed nice.

  
“How do you know?” She moistened her lips after realizing how dry they were.

  
His combed hair reflected the light of the room in a golden hue. “John called from across the street. Says he’s been pressing most of the neighborhood to buy space for the underground shelters. He also said the price wasn’t as friendly as the rep.”

  
“Hmm,” she rubbed at her temples, taking what her husband said to confirm it was morning. She had not slept all night. “Why don’t you take the door? I’m going to wash up.”

  
“Nora,” his voice was soft and laced with concern, “You could have woken me up.”

  
Nora didn’t want to argue. “You had a long day yesterday. It’s only fair, so let’s drop it right now.”

  
“Nora—“

  
“I said _drop it_ , Nate.” The words were bitter and cold and bit Nate so suddenly he no longer looked at her. The young mother stood up and passed her husband, not feeling the least bit sorry as he hung his head and made his way to the front door without another word. Nora stepped into the bathroom, the humming of Codsworth in the kitchen distracting her from the voices at the front door.

  
Codsworth was the only one who was not noticing the rift between the family, or perhaps he knows but he refuses to comment on it. Whichever it was, the robot was ironically the only sense warmth left in the house. Nora did not want to imagine the shock and hurt in his voice when she would have to tell him what the situation would cause her and Nate to decide. But in the end, it would be her choice.

  
Nora only hoped her choice would be for the best of both of them, but if she had to be honest with herself, it was not looking hopeful. 

-

  Nora had thanked Codsworth for having a clean pair of clothes ready for her in the bathroom so she wouldn’t have had to leave the only room she felt comfortable. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt immediately annoyed. While thankful she had clothes, she always hated her yellow dress with soft floral patterns that danced across the fabric. It disgusted her, and not just because it was unflattering to her skin color. Raven curls touched her dainty shoulders, the caramel skin dotted with freckles and sunspots. Somber but doe-like eyes stared into their reflected twins, a cool brown (that would change to green depending on her emotion and what she wore) that stuck out despite her warm skin and features. Freckles dusted her cheeks and a beauty mark kissed on her chin, beneath her pink, pouty lips. Nora was disgusted as the dress brought bad memories, but she knew that Codsworth meant nothing by it. Begrudgingly she fixed her hair into a bun and finally left the bathroom.

  
She had peace and quiet for two seconds, and then—

 

“Nora,” his tone was not his usual choice. It caught her attention.

 

“Nate? What’s—” Nora began but was cut off by a noise outside the house. No, it was outside the neighborhood.

 

 _The sirens_.

 

Loud, screeching and terrifying was the sound, and was then followed by Shaun’s crying, which was then followed by Nate’s cracked voice.

 

“It’s happening. We have to go, Nora.” He reached for her hand and she followed without argument. They ignored Codsworth as he himself started to panic, causing a mess in the kitchen. The hallway suddenly felt so long and seemed she was far away from her son’s bedroom. It then occurred to Nora that everything was now slowing down, sounds muted and otherworldly. Was it from the adrenaline and fear of the bombing? Fear of death? Nate told her to get Shaun and she did so, cradling the wailing infant. She took a last look at her son’s bedroom, taking notice of particularly his cradle, the toy rattle and his S.P.E.C.I.A.L. book. Something told Nora she would see this again. It was not a happy feeling. Nor was it sad. 

 

No, the feeling was sickening. An utter hatred blossomed suddenly, and it was strong and it was _raw_ and it was _**disgusting**_.

 

Nora did not like this feeling. She was not about to stick around for more of it.

 

She made a dash for the front door while her husband gathered what money and most precious possessions he could. The hallway once again felt endless, but she knew that the street would be an eternity. Nate’s muted voice met her ears, but she did not know what he was saying until he caught up with her as they ran through the front door. Nora wanted to call for Codsworth, but her husband gripped her shoulder and made her run faster from their home.

 

Where in the house everything had slowed down, the outside had everything sped up so fast Nora could hardly recognize where she was going and what was going on. There was however one that could not be un-noticed. It was the color of the sky. Nora could have sworn it was still morning, so the brilliantly orange colored sky stuck out like a sore thumb. The color of war, she pondered, is orange. As they moved up a hill the sky became scattered as the trees blocked bits and pieces. The cries of anger and desperation greeted her as soldiers blocked people from entry past the gate. Nora remembered Nate leaving her side for a moment, and then came back. They moved forward once again. Someone yelled at them, called her name, but she forgot how to look back. Her legs began to hurt running up the hill, and Shaun was crying louder than he had ever before. But still everything moved so fast she would never remember to see, only feel and hear and _run_.

 

She almost tripped then, her foot hitting hard metal as she stumbled forward. Nate caught her and held her, asking if she was okay. The young wife didn’t answer.

 

Nora could see then. They were on top of the vault, overlooking Boston. A beautiful scenery of the only place she’s ever known, never left, and it was her only home. And just as soon as it was there:

 

It wasn’t.

 

The muted sound of the bomb and the terrified cries were far away. She could not look away. The heavens and the earth traded colors, blackness choking the sky. The color of war rose and swallowed it all: trees, homes, buildings, _Boston_. It began to spread with amazing speed, heading straight towards her. A burning wind hit her, almost knocking her off-balance. It was then she noticed she was sinking, and so was everyone else. Nora still couldn’t look away. It wasn’t until the vault sunk so far that she could no longer see it, but it was burned into her mind. _It was still there_.

 

There was no more warmth after that. The cold had settled.

 


	2. It's The End Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora hasn't left Sanctuary since...so the Minutemen come to her instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! I have to get ready for a big show in May so I've been busy making proposals and sketches for my work. Please let me know what you think and if I should write more! I know this is a slow start but I promise after Diamond City things will start picking up! Have a good read!

Approximately two-hundred years and two months later from leaving the Vault, Nora did not dare step outside Sanctuary Hills except once. Even as the young woman laid on her sleeping bag, she shook her head even thinking about leaving. Instead, she focused on straining her eyes, staring at the ceiling as the radiated dust floated through the air. _Was even the dust full of radiation?_ She pondered this as she listened to the breeze.

  
Everything was gone. Her friends, family, her husband, and even Shaun. Two hundred years she was in that vault frozen, now out here without a clue as to what to do. Nora contemplated leaving, but she had to be honest with herself: How would she survive? Would she survive? What was out there? Was it worth the risk even finding it out? What did she have to _lose_? What did she have to _gain_?

  
What point _was_ there?

  
The downside of never leaving here was the lack of, well, someone to _talk_ to. There was Codsworth, who had survived through the fallout all this time and was the first person—er, robot—she talked to. It was him who revealed her two-hundred year absence, and Nora, who was already traumatized enough, reeled back at the news. And while it was nice surprise the Mister Handy robot stayed at the house all these years, it never felt the same to talk to him than to an actual person. It was not that Nora found Codsworth incapable of understanding or feeling, but it just…did not feel the same. Regardless, Nora felt guilty for not confessing the terrible truths to the robot who would optimistically await for “his master’s and their lovely son’s” return. He may just be left in the dark about it until the day he stops functioning, but she felt she would eventually be able to sleep well at night soon enough about it.

That one time she did venture she had made it to the Red Rocket gas station and found the only other living creature that was normal-looking: a german shepherd named Dogmeat. The dog had come to Nora’s rescue when she was running from these large, disgusting and hairless rats (She later learned they were called “molerats" from a trader that spent the night in Sanctuary Hills). The canine killed the rats and had seemed to had taken a fancy to the vault dweller, because he never left her side since. Nora didn’t mind the company, and the dog seemed trained despite not appearing to have an owner. At first she contemplated in returning the dog after seeing he had a collar, but she was so shaken up by the mutated molerats that exploring any further was discouraged.

  
So the dog had followed her back to Sanctuary, sniffing curiously and marking everywhere he could as the exhausted vault dweller made her way back to her house…or at least, what was left of it. The windows and door was gone, the paint had long since peeled off, and almost all of the furniture and utilities had long since rotten and were beyond repair. Nora salvaged what she could and had even taught herself to make a stool. While it wasn’t luxurious, it was still better than nothing. The trader who had told her about the molerats and some other unpleasant creatures traded a sleeping bag for Nora’s stool, which the vault dweller then found was more needed.

Now Nora laid there, having gone the past two months scrounging up Cram, Sugar Bombs and Nuka Cola to survive off of, her stomach growling for substance. Groaning she ran a hand though her hair and got up, the greasiness of her curls more apparent than ever. Nora pulled her hair back into a makeshift ponytail, making a note to bathe in the nearby creek later. She stood and moved out of her wall-less room, making her way to the doorway.

  
Sunlight stung her eyes now instead of bringing her warmth. Ever since she saw the destruction of Boston, her eyesight had nearly diminished (another reason she found to be against venturing out). The dust that she saw earlier was only so close to her that she could barely make it out. Looking out over the silent neighborhood, the house across the street was no more than blurry shapes. Nora had never known bad eyesight until now, and now was not a good time to have it. She called for her canine companion.

Dogmeat, she felt, knew about her impaired vision. Ever since she found him he began to act as a service dog. He would guide her through the walks they would have in the neighborhood, stand watch while she bathed in the creek and rarely left her side. So calling for him slightly worried her, but Nora figured he probably went out to piss. She was greeted by the somewhat far barking, but it followed with a voice.

 _No, multiple voices_.

  
Nora stiffened. She had never encountered anyone besides the friendly trader, but that same trader told her about those who she would not wish to meet: raiders, super mutants, deathclaws. With poor vision, Nora couldn’t stand a chance in determining friend or foe from afar. In addition, she had no way of defending herself, let alone attacking. So she had to trust on her canine companion.

  
She called for him again. Dogmeat barked again in reply, closer than before. She made out the blurry brown blob in the distance, and her feet moved forward. Her canine’s nails that clicked against the concrete could now be heard, and it was not long before he brushed against her side, licking her hand. Nora scratched his head, then looked up. She made out the silhouettes as she squinted hard, but they saw her first, and she heard a male voice.

  
“Miss! Can you help us please?” He called out to the vault dweller. Her feet acted faster than her brain, quickly making her way to what was now forming to be a group of people. Finally.

“You came all the way here from Concord?” Nora had the chance to actually see her new visitors, and while she concluded they were friendly, the vault dweller remained wary. Her and Codsworth had built a fire for their guests and they sat right outside of her house. She sat there with the confirmed five individuals, trying to shake off the notion that the oldest one, a woman, in the group had been staring at her the entirety of the time since they met.

  
The male voice she heard earlier belonged to a young man named Preston, who spoke up to her question. “We were trying to find a place to build a settlement, and we had heard about the potential in Sanctuary Hills,” the man’s face looked so tired, yet Nora knew this was not a usual face of his. “But we were ambushed by Raiders. This,” he looked solemnly at the others, “is all that’s left of us.”

  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nora sympathized. Something in her gut twisted and told her she could have done something, but she ignored it the best she could.  
“Just another day living in the Commonwealth,” a burly man muttered, his arms crossed as the light of the fire illuminated his stern features. If Nora remembered correctly, Preston referred to him as Sturges.

  
“We were not informed that someone was living here.” Preston looked up at the vault dweller. “How long have you been here?”

  
Nora bit her lip. Should she tell the truth? Should she take the risk in hopes of them understanding? Doubt clouded her choices, but she already knew it was taking too long for her to answer. So of course, Codsworth answered for her. “I’ll have you know that this has been the Sir’s and Madam’s residence for over the past two-hundred years! Sure they have been absent through the most of it, but it is still very much their property!”

  
Nora cringed at the confidence in his voice. Everyone was looking at her now, some expressive in their disbelief. “Sounds like your Handy Man has been sipping the wrong oil,” Sturges commented, earning a soft chuckle or two. A younger man, scrawny and looked like he was wound up so tight that if Nora touched him he’d combust, spoke next: “A-Are you tryin’ to tell us she’s a ghost?”

  
The insane accusation and the somewhat louder response of chortles and chuckles tempted Nora to laugh along, but she remained quiet. Preston had grinned at the young man’s words as well, and suddenly Nora felt a little more comfortable with these people. She found it a little strange how Preston was the odd one out as far as dress, his cowboy hat a very peculiar choice for someone who was surviving in the post-apocalyptic wastelands. Preston felt her eyes on him, and he met her gaze. “M’am, is there a reason your Handy Man says this?”  
Nora gulped. Now or never.

-

The tiny bit of jovial banter had long since been forgotten. Granted, it was a hard story to believe, and Nora knew that if she was listening to this from anyone else, she would have probably laughed at them. Thankfully, none of the visitors laughed. The old woman seemed to have taken the most interest in the vault dweller’s story, but Nora could not shake away the feeling that in some way, this woman already knew. But she told anyway, and it made her feel a pang of guilt when Codsworth responded in great sadness to the fate of his master. Sturges had only nodded, as if in understanding, and gave Nora a sympathetic look. Preston took off his hat and held it to his chest. “I’m sorry for your loss, m’am. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I was in a situation like that.”

  
“That’s the thing,” Nora noticed she was digging her nails deep into her palms. “I couldn’t do anything. These people, they just…they knew I was there and they knew—“ It became hard to breath, and her eyes began to water. This was the first time she reacted emotionally to her recollection of the events since the day she stepped out of the vault. “They killed Nate. They killed him and then they took Shaun, and then,” a shaky breath, “the man saw me. And he saw that I knew. And then he grinned and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up.”

  
No one spoke for a moment, but a wave of sympathy was felt and it touched Nora. She looked around at all of the newcomers’ faces. It became a realization that everyone here had a familiar loss, and suddenly the _sole survivor_ no longer felt _alone_.

  
“Right, I’d think it’s about time to call it a night,” Sturges stretched and stood, but not before moving to help the old woman stand. Preston and Nora remained sitting as the survivors and Sturges made their makeshift beds in another room of the house. Another while of silence passed.

  
“You’re not the only sole survivor out of a group,” Preston’s voice seemed strained, bringing Nora’s attention to her newfound friend. “I am one of the few remaining members of the Minutemen. The group that was in Concord,” a pause, “was bigger than what you see now. Even before then, I’ve had seen my comrades, my Colonel, fall. And not yet once have I been blessed with dying amongst them.”

  
Nora shivered at the darkness in his words. He did not seem like a person who had seen many die, at least not until now. Her eyes met his between the dwindling flames. There she then saw a face that she had seen before. She had seen it in Nate. War tore through his face and left a scar, while not visibly seen, she knew it was there. Nora sympathized, “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help with your group and do more.”

  
Preston gave her a questioning look. “You didn’t turn us away when we entered Sanctuary. You offered us water to drink and your home to rest in. You even built a fire for us, which, if I may be honest m’am,” he gave a small, but still genuine smile, “that’s a rare kindness to find in the Commonwealth. You’d make a good Minuteman, if you were interested.”

  
Nora returned the smile with her own, “I don’t even know what or who the Minutemen are, let alone know how to shoot a gun. I haven’t stepped out of this place since I left besides once.”

  
The Minuteman sat up a little straighter now, the grin reaching his eyes, “Does that mean you’re not interested?”

  
It was a choice she knew she had to make. Either waste away in her loss, or begin anew, and maybe find answers. _Honestly she would rather just give up_.

  
“Tell me about the Minutemen. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”


End file.
